Loose and Twisted Stitch
by Nemi and Sitrine
Summary: Xover LoTR/Mercedes Lackey. Elves have been vanishing from all of ME and appearing as orcs or mad in Mirkwood, where Legolas seems both insane and and supersane. The Forest won't free him to seek solace in Aman, when an elf who isn't an elf appears.
1. Prologue: A Slit in Sanity

Prologue  
  
Notes:  
  
{Tadah!} is Elvish, Sindarin unless otherwise indicated (it might be Quenya)  
  
[Tadah!] is Sidhe, which is distinct from Sindarin and Quenya.  
  
/Tadah!/ is thought-speech that is deliberately sent. Yes in Tolkien basically only Galadriel uses it but ALL Sidhe can do this.  
  
-Tadah!- is thoughts not projected, but people might pick up on them anyways  
  
"Tadah!" is English, or Westeron, big plot hole that they are the same but there is a reason for this. It's also 'as heard' like "Mellon" versus {Friend} get it?  
  
Also, as I couldn't fit it into the summery this is SLASH! You know, GAY STUFF!  
  
Just like everything else I write! ^_^  
  
And Now the Fic!  
  
  
  
{Legolas?} A blond elf clad in the colors of royal servitors crept into the chambers of the youngest prince of Mirkwood. A single candle was lit casting an eerie glow on the prince who stared at it intently. It certainly wasn't the light itself, for nothing else in the room had that strange mien besides the Prince and the ruby ring upon his finger. Indeed it was the prince himself that lent the--otherness to the light. {My Lord Legolas?}  
  
"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet." He smiled wanly and the flame flickered becoming redder and rounder briefly before going back to something far more normal and the servant, appointed to the prince for her nerves of mithril, did not run at this though her eyes flicked to the door. The changes in the prince went beyond changing his appearance slightly. However she did jump slightly when the Prince spoke up again. {What is it Buiaiel? Has my father finally come to his senses and changed his mind? Or has Elbereth granted a miracle and he actually succeeded in negotiating with those upstart rash fools that the human king rules over?}  
  
{Ah--no my lord,} the servant who's name was apparently Buiaiel phrased her words carefully, she knew naught how he would react. {The Lords Elladan and Elohir have arrived. They--}  
  
{Can speak for themselves, thank you Buianedllecaun.} Buiaiel turned and bowed to the entering Lords.  
  
{Ah? Hello.} The Prince of Mirkwood surveyed them and promptly turned away from the visiting dignitaries to watch the flame once more.  
  
"Legolas wake up!" Buiaiel started at the sound of flesh hitting flesh and took a small step away, not knowing how her prince would react. "You are only forty-three years older than us, do not act as if you were a thousand."  
  
Buiaiel tuned them out, not understanding the tongue of man besides a few words.  
  
The other stepped forward, "Can you dismiss your servant Lee? We need to speak in private."  
  
"First you strike me, then you demand me to release a servant?" He snorted. "Your years chasing orcs have softened your minds." Legolas stood, graceful as a cat, watching the younger lords with eyes that might have briefly matched a cat's. "I would suggest you ask for what you wish before I decide I do not want to listen." The twins looked at each other, surprise evident.  
  
{Lee, what has changed you so?} Elrohir asked, stepping forward. The prince sighed, and absently gestured for Buiaiel to leave.  
  
The servant bowed gracefully and stepped outside, walking towards King Thranduil's chambers to make a report.  
  
She knew the answer to the question; she knew why the young lords were visiting, why they often visited.  
  
Lady Galadriel had come from Lórien herself to see to Legolas. The forest would not let him leave even walking to the West it shifted and twisted around him so he never found the border. But the Lady came herself, and King Thanduil who was at his wits end had not asked her--it did not stop him from being grateful. Gandalf had left the ring of fire to Legolas and his reaction...Some compared it to a woman in the midst of pregnancy.  
  
Then his enhanced strength came into being, how things happened around him and to people he was irritated it at.  
  
The King lost five robes to them spontaneously combusting.  
  
So the Lady came and examined the prince and informed the court that it was the power flowing him that was causing it, like the life that flows though a woman; that his strange reaction had much to do with the War of the Ring; that she could not help him because of the magic leaving the land with the elves, which was why some elves would wander outside of the forests as if in a daze.  
  
All were assured that in the end all would be well.  
  
The servants, as always, gossiped. It was how they entertained themselves during their work, it was their way. There were whispers of a secret meeting between the Lady of the Wood and the King, in which secret liaisons might have been included, but that had been in jest for they all knew the King loved his departed wife dearly. But all agreed that their had been a meeting, liaisons or no, some suggested that perhaps The Lady advised that to get the Prince West a great track of their beloved forest would have to be cut down so he could exit, some even said he would not be able nor permitted to go West to preserve the Magic in Arda and the forest changing was a sign from the Valar if not from Eru Ilúvatar himself. There were darker whispers too, that the Prince was well on his way to madness from the Ring War and his trip though Moria.  
  
The darkest whispers that no one had wish to hear reminded all that in the Halls of Mandos all things were well.  
  
Buiaiel was chosen for the Prince, she had a steel trap for a mind and for her lips and was not easy to spook. She could not speak for the more spiritual of matter but when King Thranduil called her forth two years ago he informed her of everything. That The Lady commanded her grandsons to visit Legolas often, to keep him informed of the outside world and keep him from fading into his mind all together. That there had a secret meeting between the two of them, and that there were no liaisons. And the Dark whispers were not true. Prince Legolas was not well on his way into madness from the battles, his mind had been unshielded and developing since he left Lórien and had felt the feelings of all around him, even Nazgul, even from The One Ring, even the countless yrch he slew.  
  
The Prince was already quite mad.  
  
=========  
  
End Prologue  
  
More Notes: Written by Sitrine and Nemi, standard disclaimers and then some apply. 


	2. Chapter One: Klutz: Enter Stage Legolas

Chapter One   
  
The Biggest Author Notes Of All Time, skip if you don't care or come back later:   
  
This takes two years for Maclyn after the end of his book.   
  
All you really need to know about Tolkien elves is right here: http://www.glyphweb.com/arda/e/elves.html   
  
Now, since no one has put up a page I could find on Sidhe I'll explain here.   
  
Sidhe (pronounced Shee or She-e or See-e) are more like traditional elves from folklore. They are pure magic and live in the hollow hills. Well Underhill actually, which is basically a dimension of pure magic where you carve out reality with your will and magic to sustain it. Time moves funny Underhill, humans can live forever, but if they stay to long and then come back up their years catch up to them quickly and they die. Other things live Underhill too, Dragons and hobgoblins and banshee everything from folklore, but that's off topic.   
  
Sidhe, magically and physically:   
  
All Sidhe have blond hair and green cat slit eyes of various shades and they can shape-shift in almost anything, it is a minor skill to them as is glamorie, which are illusions. They can also ken things. To ken something is to understand it, but in the magical sense it is to replicate it perfectly. Only elves can do this and only after studying the item. They cannot ken magic, or souls, or living beings (without a lot of effort and preparation, it's like making a golem), though steak and flowers are doable. So a Sidhe could make the One Ring but it wouldn't have the power in it. Although when they first get their hands on something after a little bit they can alter it though their magic.   
  
They have weaknesses too. While they can drink ten humans under the table they cannot stand caffeine. It is like a drug to them sends them into a state called the Dreaming where they walk around as if they were high. They eventually fade away, they don't die, it's as if they never were there. The Dreaming can also be brought on by a lack of magic. And unlike human drugs if you stop taking it won't stop affecting them. They start Dreaming they stay dreaming unless something snaps them out of it.   
  
Also like in the stories Iron is bad, as in VERY bad for them, it's also bad for Underhill unless it's in a 'cultivated' land. Basically Iron burns them; it sucks their 'bandwidth' of magic up too fast and leaves a burn, it's also a poison, it dissolves their flesh and fires all the pain neurons at once and DOES NOT STOP. Am I getting though here? An example, if you wrap iron wire around their wrists, just a single loop, they will be incapacitated unless they have built up a serious resistance to it (which they can) and will die within a week. It also throws their magic out of wack and pulls spells towards it. Like if a sidhe cast a levin bolt (generic magical projectile) out and forty five degrees to his left there was a stick of iron the levin bolt would turn and go towards it. Wearing iron chain mail will protect you from sidhe spells but it will dissolve under much onslaught. Silk can muffle iron.   
  
They cannot create, there isn't a creative thought in their heads, they can copy and improve upon, but the only way they innovate is by mistake and by following humans around, lack of an influx of 'newness' can lead elves to die out as if in Dreaming.   
  
Beyond that they are much like Tolkien elves, pointed ears, live forever unless killed, ridiculously low birthrate (which is why they steal children away from abusive parents), with one extra quirk. They can't breed with humans very easily because sidhe have so much magic in comparison with humans and human's blood is iron based...It takes a lot of magic and typically in order to do something like that it also takes black magic, as in human sacrifice.   
  
Politics and how much magic:   
  
There are two types of Sidhe, high court and low court. In order to range the real world Sidhe have to poke a pin hole though the veil between worlds called a nexus to let some magic out, which is good for the humans as it feeds their creativity. There's one in Hollywood. The Low court elves are more numerous, have a tendency to look a bit younger, are flightier more like pixies, and can't leave the range of the grove magic or else they die slowly. High Court elves are the elvish kings you hear about in stories, they can gather up enough magic to be able to walk around outside of the grove's range.   
  
There are two political courts, Bright Court the Seleighe, and the Dark Court the Unseleighe. The people of the Seleighe court range from liking humans to not liking them but seeing them as sentient creatures. The Unseleighe are the nasties of Underhill, they are led by Queen Morgana who wishes to kill everything, including her own followers. They range from being psyco like her to just wishing the humans would go away. Please note that being Sidhe is not necessary to being in either court and that somethings are dark by nature, they feed off of the fears and pains and deaths of humans.   
  
Elves live Underhill in Elfhames which are usually tied to Grove Above the hill which are the nexus points. If you rule an Elfhame you're a Prince or a Princess and your sons and daughters more the same. If you head an alliance of Elfhames you are a Lord or Lady. If any of those you lead are powerful in their own right you're a King or Queen.   
  
All Elves owe loyalty to the High King Oberon, who has taken an oath not to interfere with anything having to do with mortals. Oberon is so powerful his mere appearance drove back an entire very large Unseleighe army in panic.   
  
Because of his oath he can't interfere in a lot of things, including the wars and skirmishes between the two courts over humans.   
  
And unlike Tolkien elves, Sidhe don't apparently care much about marriage and legitimacy or the numbers in sex (twos, threes, and groups.) All children can inherit.   
  
Chapter One, finally   
  
  
/Tell me again why we're trusting him with *sharp* objects? Especially ones that can be used over a distance,/ Elladan mentally hissed to his brother, shooting a glare at the blond elf some ways ahead of them.   
  
Elrohir sighed and patted his brother's shoulder gently. They had set out going North as usual for them and the forest predictably changed around them, it always got Elladan jumpy. /You know it will do him good to be out in the forest with something other than his own thoughts. And you never complain about the sharp objects when the forest doesn't change./   
  
/Well the saner he is the less it changes and I think the trees are about to start growing sideways so--/ {ACK!} Elladan stopped short and skittered backwards a little, and Elrohir joined him as the Prince of Mirkwood had suddenly taken it into his head to start glowing red.   
  
{Silence!} Legolas didn't even spare them a glare and he let his bow clatter on the knobby roots of an oak, his lack of respect for his weapons speaking for how distracted he was. His lips moved to form unheard words and the ruddy glow swirled briefly around him before retreating back into Narya to be replaced by a surprisingly strong and pure elven light emanating from Legolas's own skin for the first time in years. He cocked his head to the side. {Someone is coming.}   
  
*****   
  
"Uhm...You really don't have to do this!" Maclyn, Combat Mage and Prince of Elfhame Outremer was running for his life from the Wild Hunt and its hell hounds. "I really, Really *hate* her." How was he supposed to know that half-elf bitch was taken?! Suier Bard Eric's girl, -Now I know she is at least even if I don't remember her name!-   
  
So he had flirted, okay, hit on her with absolutely no shame. And he didn't blame her for turning him down, by Oberon's balls she had a BARD! Master of creative magic, and the most powerful type of mage in existence! Not only that he was a *hero,* he defeated one of the most powerful Unseelighe lords in existence, Aerune mac Audelaine, with the help of some powerful human mages.   
  
How could he compare to someone like *THAT*?   
  
But she had no right to pen Rhellen up like she did OR slap him.   
  
"Okay, okay, I deserved a smack upside the head, probably need one too, but she *smacked* me clear to the Unformed Plain!"   
  
-I didn't know she was that strong!-  
  
He could have easily gated away, but his magic had stopped working and the sick, almost unseleighe taint to the mist around him and the constant leeching on his strength let him know he was deeper Underhill than anyone, save perhaps dwarves, had ever dared before.   
  
Thus he was on grounds open to the Wild Hunt. Dead Gods chasing him with hell hounds on his heels was not his favorite way to spend the day.   
  
"I'm supposed to take Amanda ou--AHGH!!! FUCK!"   
  
That's what he got for not paying attention when running for his life, he really should know better considering he spent over a year campaigning. But his instincts were honed and though his mind forgot what to do his body remembered. As the wicked hooked teeth of the hell hound sunk into his calf he dove instead of falling, rolled and sprang back up, using what little magic besides his glamorie he could currently work to get his leg to work even though a good chunk of it was missing.   
  
A rip in the fabric of Underhill, leading somewhere else, -So twisted down here it rips?- A wave of exhaustion came over him and he put on his speed anyways, it was already closing up. -Argh. No one told me these things were poisoned...Then again I doubt any one has gotten away after being bitten.- It was a sobering thought. -No Depression! No Passing Out! Any Gate in a storm, now jump though you bloody idiot!-  
  
He took a flying leap though the silvery tear...   
  
...And landed on someone.   
  
He struggled to stand.   
  
"DARO!"   
  
"Eh hehe..." His laugh was uncomfortable and he stayed where he was, they were pointing steel at him, he could tell without looking up, and that made him nervous. He raised his hands in surrender, "Would it help if I said I was sorry?"  
  
=====  
  
AN: sorry for the suckyness 


	3. Chapter 2: Lucky Bastard

Notes:   
  
Yay! Because of all the notes last chapter there are none this chapter!   
  
Chapter Two   
  
  
{What the hell is this thing?} Elladan glared at his brother for asking the question as he helped Legolas up from under the...Thing. The term certainly fit, it looked almost human, but too fair, and to his keen elven sight it shimmered like sun dream upon the horizon.   
  
Legolas, despite his obvious annoyance at being landed upon and pushed into the mud was also fascinated, more focused on the now and reality than he had been in a month.   
  
{Do you speak Sindarin, wander?} He received no response from the thing besides a glare from eyes only a few shades different from Legolas's particular brand of green through ringlet-ed hair. He sighed, {I have not the patience for this. I wish to leave.} He started walking but his progress was impeded by the twins. {Move, now.}   
  
Elrohir sighed, {Don't think so. We should get to the bottom of this, now.} /We should have kept our visits twice a month, we've been gone for two months and he's gotten worse and.../ {Gods you got stuck up.}   
  
{Watch where you tread 'Dan. Watch it carefully.}   
  
-----   
  
Ah, so they were speaking to him. Their tongue sounded almost like that which was used in the courts in the Summer Lands before the High King. So close, but too different. Maclyn lifted his face out of the mud and despite himself his face showed surprise.   
  
They looked like him, their ears a bit different, and no Sidhe he ever heard of had dark hair and eyes, but the blond one could pass for a lord, save his eyes were distant as an underpowered low court 'kid.' Not to mention they were human and not cat slit.   
  
But that wasn't the surprising bit, the part that broke his composure. It was the fact they were pointing arrows at him. Their bows were wood, *Wood!* Almost all Sidhe had adopted human's new technology for their old weapons, carbon bows, sight scopes, pulleys to triple or more the pull of a weapon with less strain upon the arm. Those that didn't had their weapon of metal, pliant and as flexible as wood but far stronger, and enchanted too boot.   
  
However, looking into their eyes, even the dreamy distant ones of the blond he had a sense of oldness to them, of wisdom. Suddenly Maclyn felt very young indeed.   
  
"Lle Quendi Sindarin, randir?" It was obvious directed to him, and he just shook his head to indicate that no, he did not understand.   
  
"Eh...Konichiwa?" What they spoke sounded nothing like any human language he knew, so he tried one he barely knew. That was Japanese, he picked up a little of it in New York City, it was hard not too as more than half the population was...what was it...anime crazy. He didn't know anything about that but their candy was good. [Hello?]   
  
It did him no good, the blond one was, like an especially ditzy Dreaming low court, no longer paying attention to him. In fact he was arguing with the twins, "Al-deri gerin min I an sen. Min ie..."   
  
Maclyn stopped paying attention to their words. While they argued he could get away. He put his hands on the ground, grateful for his gloves because they kept the mud off his hands. It wasn't swamp mud but more like damp soil, none the less his silk shirt was ruined. He levered himself up, got a leg under him started to stand...   
  
And fell yowling against a tree. [Sweet Blessed Dana!] "Damnit!"   
  
"So, you do speak Westron."   
  
"Westron? This is English, argh..." He looked down at his leg, ignoring the hiss of sympathy of the others as they too directed their attention towards it. He had been running on it and now...ugh, it was worse than he imagined. The poison... /What kind of poison IS that?/   
  
The blond looked at him sharply, "You're poisoned?"   
  
/Wha? Just my luck another mind read--!!!/ He started and cursed himself out for being an idiot--after getting his shields up. What kind of fool was he? He was in hostile territory with an open mind, he might as well give his true name away!   
  
And with a sickening realization he felt the blond, push against his shields as if exploring them, and feeling his emotions though it.   
  
/Amanda Anne helped me build those!/ The fact that the other did not question who Amanda Anne was assured him that his thoughts were not overheard. Reasonably safe behind his shields he turned his attention to his surroundings and recoiled.   
  
The place felt...to borrow a phrase from Amanda icky. He could just see Abby comparing the magical aura of this place to 'icky gooey yucky slugs' and Alice comparing it to 'germy poisonous dirt', which was perhaps the worst insult possible from the young neat freak. Anne...Anne had seen far worse but would say nothing and build up her shields even more.   
  
Why didn't he notice this in the first place? It had almost as much magic as any Elfhame but it reeked of Unseleighe and poison. It should have knocked him on his back!   
  
Of course, the poison. It killed the pain in his leg for a while until it came back, it was most likely messing with his mind too. The prey runs and runs like a drunk with a mortal wound, and then cuts off suddenly and then falls to the dogs from the sudden pain. It would make sense for it to skew the perception and the mind so the prey wouldn't notice it's surroundings, running in circles, staying inside of the Hunt's territory, and not seeing escape paths.   
  
[I am one lucky bastard.] 


	4. Chapter 3: Spider or Bug?

Maclyn was not a happy Sidhe. "Yo! You think you could slow down a bit? The snails are still behind us." This, of course, was sarcasm for the prince-ling was stopping every five steps to look at Mac, who, despite having to use a long forked stick to get around was moving confidently, despite the rocky outcroppings.  
  
"I would remain silent, randir. The journey is long and there are unpleasant things in this wood." The prince frowned, "And one is approaching."  
  
As soon as the words left his mouth, the twins froze, looking around them warily. The forest was still, the ground littered with leaves and rocks with one large outcropping boulder embedded in the earth. Maclyn smiled, loving the elves' incompetence.  
  
"You are aware of course of that lovely, if overly large, black furry spider prepared to drop on your head from tree level, aren't you?" Legolas' gaze snapped upwards as the spider let loose a cry worse then a banesidhe's. In a moment of terror, he froze, unable to move.  
  
The spiders had been dying out recently, but the ones that remained were the strongest of their kind. There had been an attack some time ago; the spiders had burrowed up from derelict caverns in the Palace. Despite the prince's mental sickness he did not fire upon his allies, yet, and he was still the best shot in Mirkwood, so he fought with the warriors, under the twin's supervision. The only thing distinguishing him from them were the royal green eyes and the red glow about him.  
  
The spiders rushed for the section Legolas was in, it had been assumed that it was because he was such a beacon. This was greatly appreciated, as now Legolas's section could fall back and allow the others to flank the following spiders. It had worked wonderfully, until one of the spiders, a huge one that could have bitten three elves in half with a single bite, made its way though the defenses. It had barely gotten within ten feet of the prince when suddenly the red nimbus around him was leeched into the spider.  
  
They still remembered his scream, such anguish.  
  
The spider had been killed with a sword as many arrows had bounced off its hard outer covering. Legolas was unconscious for days, the healer on hand said that the power had been ripped from him in something akin to rape.  
  
{Idiot! Move!} Elrohir ran forward, pushing the blonde elf out of the way as the spider dropped down. Elladan cried out in pain, falling to his knees.  
  
Maclyn grinned and eased himself down to sit, good leg folded up against his chest. He regarded it as his duty in keeping up the running commentary, "Guess they aren't gonna be much help." It wasn't that he was ignorant of their plight, but this was something he could handle, giant spiders, common and weak Unseleighe beings. After about five years of on and off campaigning and three of learning from Kevinghin Silverhair, he could kill a fire ball using giant spider in his sleep. Though he wasn't too sure about the time, after all, it wasn't as if Underhill had anything constant to tell time by, two years passed above hill though, he thought, maybe...  
  
"Shut up!" Legolas grabbed his bow and notched an arrow, loosening it faster the Maclyn could blink. {Elladan, get Elrohir out of there!} He loosed an arrow, shredding though the uppermost joint on a foreleg, severing it just as it swiped at Elladan. He released a second arrow so fast he wasn't even sure if he had reloaded, there was a wet crushing sound, like crushing an insect and a thud, the arrow had shattered one of the eyes but missed the brain, Maclyn was impressed. The spider screamed and started to lurch towards him, moving at an alarming rate.  
  
Maclyn could feel the dread radiating from the three as Legolas dodged into a tree, trying to put some distance between him and the spider. Unfortunately, it was too fast. "Ai!" The twins both yelled something untranslatable as the prince fell, still fighting off the giant spider, bow lost. He pulled two white knives from his belt just before he hit, though the impact jarred them from his hands. Maclyn could just about reach one...  
  
{Legolas! Keep your head down!} Elladan yelled, firing an arrow into the thing again. Legolas did, crying out in pain.  
  
"Ai! Elladan, get Elrohir to.Ah! Safety! Leave me!" He managed to grab one of his knives and began to back up onto the out cropping, perhaps hoping to gain an advantage of height or to jump down from the top. He slashed at the thing's eyes, which were at chest level because of the incline, but the spider grabbed his arm in its jaws, deftly cutting off the motion of his arm but thankfully not piercing his clothing.  
  
{No!} And Elladan was actively in the fray, slashing at the spider with his sword, cutting off the legs where he could to drive it back. It retaliated, swinging a foreleg and knocking Elladan down. The spider lunged towards Legolas, still hungry for the power he had. {NO!} The fallen twin hurtled himself foreword, imposing his body between Legolas and the spider, and together they fell to the edge of the boulder.  
  
Maclyn was cutting off his bonds, he could feel what that spider wanted, magic and it was trying to siphon it away from that one elf, who was hiding behind some haphazard magic shields and under one of the twins.  
  
Maclyn glowered slightly as he realized that his ring had more magic in it than he did. [Oy! Over here you eight, no seven, whoops there goes another one, six legged piece of dung! What are you spider or bug?] He ripped off the magic muffling silk glove and waved his hand around, putting more magic into it, reflecting that 'spider or bug' didn't quite have the same ring to it as 'man or mouse.'   
  
The thing expectedly charged at him, though he wasn't too sure if it understood what he said or was just hungry. He held the knife confidently and pulled back his arm slightly as its mandibles gaped and dripped poison. He thrusted up with the heel of his hand under the head just before it could bite him. He held its head up and away from his body, bending it back as if it were rearing up, the remaining front legs searched for purchase on the out of reach ground. The blade flashed out and cut the poisonous pincer like mandibles.  
  
It screamed a profoundly unnatural sound that set his teeth on edge, as disturbing as a rabbit's death scream. He braced his good foot on the ground and pushed up, bending it father back, glittering gem like red eyes now facing the group. "You can shoot now 'cause I can't hold him forever!"  
  
Gah...incompetence was amusing, but annoying as well.  
  
Legolas was lying on the ground, Elladan in a most compromising position above him. Until the blond pushed himself up into a sitting position and *Reached* for his bow, which was some yards away. Red and white glowed and the weapon was in his hands, arrow already knocked, the fact that the bottom half of the bow could and was hanging off the outcrop was the only thing that made it possible to shoot a long bow from a seated position.  
  
The blow was dead on, piercing another eye and going straight to the brain.  
  
The only problem was that now one of the dark haired elves was *sitting* in a highly suggestive pose in the blonde's lap.  
  
"Gee, all that fighting must get a guy horny. Hey, I don't mind, free show." Elladan shot Maclyn a look of death, cursing in Sindarin. Legolas didn't seem to notice, as he was unconscious. Elrohir stood up from where he was knocked, leaning heavily on his bow, "I think I may start getting jealous of our dear prince, brother, unless we can have a threesome."  
  
"Tch...Forgetting to invite your guest, very bad manners, foursome, unless someone else falls on blondie, then we can have a small orgy"  
  
Elrohir glanced at Maclyn and smirked a little, "Prisoners do not have the privilege to join in the orgies."  
  
Maclyn snapped his fingers, "Darn it!" He grinned and leaned over to pick up his makeshift crutch.  
  
"Aye...Are you two alright? Done trying to steal my brother away Legolas?"  
  
{Shut up,} they both growled and proceeded to pick themselves up off the ground, Elladan had the opportunity to see the prisoner again.  
  
{His bonds were cut and he did not run away?} Elladan questioned, holding his head. He looked like he had a huge headache. Mac couldn't blame him, he almost had been squashed by the spider.  
  
{Release him. He will walk with us free.} Elladan looked like he was about to protest, but Legolas was already turning to Mac. "You are still a prisoner, make no mistake. But we may need you to fight, if any more spiders come. You try anything, and your head will no longer be attached to your shoulders." He then picked up his knife, "And I would like my knife back."  
  
He expectantly held out his hand.  
  
Maclyn glanced at him, his hand and then examined the knife he held, -Doesn't burn, not iron, Elven Steel? No...Magic in it but not my kind of magic, and Elven Steel is usually very colorful.- He frowned, "Is this Hill Steel?"  
  
He received odd looks.  
  
"Sometimes it is called Dwarven Steel, it is very good work."  
  
"Aye, it is Mithril, I have never heard it called Hill Steel though."  
  
Maclyn frowned again, -That doesn't sound right, a little different, I can't ken dwarf steel, this...- He peered at intently and felt it in his hands and magic. -This is simple.-  
  
He wiped the spider's blood off the white blade on his good silk shirt and handed it back hilt first.  
  
Legolas took it and nodded, a slight crease in his brow, muffled words, he wasn't to sure what he was hearing. He flipped the knife around and sheathed it.  
  
Elrohir, who was starting to like this new comer very much as he had proven to have a sense of humor and to be a good warrior even injured as he was; looked at Maclyn carefully. He still shimmered greatly, especially about the eyes but he wasn't as upset with it as he had been. "What was that tongue that you spoke to the spider to command it to come to you? It sounded elvish."  
  
"It *is* elvish, Seleighe elvish. I have never heard what you spoke earlier. And I commanded it naug--not. I simply insulted it incase it could understand and waved my arm about." He demonstrated.  
  
Elladan's eyes widened and he snatched the stranger's arm, the shimmering did not obscure this at least. He held it close to his, he was no stranger to magic, and many elves had said they still felt darkness though the war of the ring was done with, [Legolas!]  
  
The prince blinked curiously and then froze up when Elladan shoved the randir's hand in his face.  
  
His hand that had a gold ring that rang with magic around one of his fingers. 


	5. Chapter 4: INtroductions

Chapter Four  
  
By Nemi and Sitrine, who also owns nothing  
  
Legolas was on his way to the dungeons. The new prisoner, the strange yet elf-like male, who had--somehow--managed to confound, avoid being captured (for less than five minutes but still) by, both himself and a whole troop of guards while being surround by said troop and nose to nose with the prince!  
  
Never mind the only reason they caught him the second time was because of that deep bite mark on his leg. Legolas knew from experience that the body oft ignored wounds when fleeing for ones life. He, along with many of the guards, surmised that this is what happened to the randir, and his body finally gave out.  
  
Legolas wondered what it could have been though, he had never seen teeth marks quite like that before... He mused upon it as he walked, lifting his eyes momentarily to check his surroundings.  
  
The guards outside the cell alerted him that it was the correct one. His father's dungeons had been rather empty since the quest, and now the stranger was the only one incarcerated therein.  
  
"So quiet Banshee prince-ling?" Legolas snarled, causing the door guard to look at him, rather shocked. He had no idea what a 'Banshee' was but he knew instinctively that it was quite insulting, especially after being called time and time again on the trip back to the palace by the uppity randir.  
  
"I am no Banshee prince-ling. I am 20 yen old, randir.." He could sense the mocking before it even started. "That's about 2961 human years." He turned to the guard. "Edra-I anon." The guard complied, glancing at his prince just to see if he was all right.  
  
Though everyone knew he wasn't.  
  
As soon as Maclyn saw the prince, he grinned.  
  
"Perhaps my mother didn't lay with a warg, but rather your father; you have spared few enough kind words of him."  
  
That seemed to change something in the prince.  
  
"My father is a fine elf." Legolas heard the other's thoughts as well as he heard his own and paused to detangle himself. Coming to terms that the randir knew he was lying. "Nay, he's not. My mother was. Father--He likes to start wars. And kill his children in them, and steal gold and-and-. Why in Valar am I telling you this?" The moment of simple emotion was broken and Legolas felt a longing matched by the other prince within his mind...and it wasn't mocking.  
  
But that one statement caught his attention.  
  
"Steal gold?! Why?" The prince just stared at him.  
  
"It does not just appear out of thin a-ir..." His haughty voice trailed when he looked around. His emerald eyes flicked around the cell, and the bars of the enclosure, for it wouldn't do to call it a cell any more.  
  
Silk. Jewel toned and finely woven. In the dungeon. The bars were covered in it. His father wouldn't have provided silk to the dungeons even if he had silk of those startling colors and quality.  
  
The room was well appointed, a bed, an oak table, silk and pillows everywhere and large pieces of colored glass embedded on the wall near the ceiling instead of moldings. He looked back at the apparent author of all this, focusing on Mac's re-disguised eyes. "Or does it, as this did?" Mac met Legolas's raised eyebrow with his own.  
  
"Duh." Just to prove his point, Maclyn concentrated on the gold bar he had seen frequently Underhill, typical Fort Knox sort of thing. There was a shimmering and that very brick appeared in his hand. Maclyn lifted his gaze just in time to see the elf jump back. He was so very tempted to ken a huge pile of the stuff but when he looked at the prince's eyes he saw no greed for it. Part of him approved, the other part was annoyed that he couldn't use it to his advantage.  
  
"A sorcerer." There was something behind that statement that made Mac uneasy. "Perhaps Mithrandir would know what to do with you." Legolas turned towards the door, starting towards it.  
  
"Your father can't even ken a gold coin? A child of three human years could." The elf-prince stopped, turning sadly.  
  
"We know not of this 'kenning'; tis unbeknownst to us on this side of Amman."  
  
Mac raised his eyebrows. "Then perhaps more of your kin should mate with wargs." The gold disappeared as he watched Legolas. The prince was chuckling.  
  
"You still do not know what a warg is."  
  
He replied gruffly, "And you don't know what a banesidhe is, though I doubt you're related to one; your voice is too fair." A strange look passed through Legolas's face, and for the life of him Maclyn could not imagine why he had said that.  
  
"You think my voice is fair?" he looked almost sorrowful. "Only 3 hath said those words before. Mother, Frodo and--" He shook his head.  
  
"You aren't a Bard, though it is fair."  
  
For a moment, Legolas became very annoyed. "Of course I am no bard! I am Prince Legolas Greenleaf Thranduilion! A Teleri elf of the sindar elves of Mirkwood. I am no mere bard."  
  
Mac rolled his eyes, though the name reminded him of something. I know I have heard that name before.  
  
"Not a bard.but a Bard." He watched the confusion flicker through Legolas's eyes. "Not the plain mistrals. It's...A type of Magic." He bit his lip for a moment, he had never met anyone who did not know what a Bard was. "I think we have stumbled upon a language barrier. Let me say this though, when I say Bard," and you could hear his capital 'B', "I speak of someone who is treated like royalty for their gift, and not a traveling minstrel."  
  
Mac glanced at Legolas again.  
  
"I have never met you."  
  
Maclyn jumped back and narrowed his eyes at Legolas.   
  
A wall slammed up between them, mentally. Solid, or at least it should have been. Legolas's mind instinctively reached out to explore the smooth 'surface,' pushing at it, there had been something like this before. When the randir had first landed upon him he was completely open, and then something 'snapped' into place when he disappeared right before his eyes. It was like a very fine piece of linen, shading the light, but now it was thicker, like a heavy velvet curtain.  
  
Legolas could feel the other's horror, that though most of his thoughts did not reach him some of his emotions still reached past the curtain, he tasted the emotions. And he knew something.  
  
He shouldn't be able to feel him.  
  
The randir drew back slightly, and stiffly, and formerly, introduced himself, "I am Maclyn Arrydwyn, son of the late Dierdre Sherdeleth and the Prince of Elfhame Outremer. I am the rider of great metal steeds and horses of air and magic. Guardian of the Twilight Lands, Knight of the Light Court under Kevinghin Silverhair, immortal walker among mortals." He left off the 'And would you kindly get the fuck out of my head?' bit as he didn't think it would be polite.  
  
A nod of understanding appeared as the prince smiled softly. "As the nine walkers." Maclyn's face reflected startlement, and disbelief.  
  
He became canny then, sliding closer to the bars and speaking softly, "Perhaps, perhaps not. I bear a ring that binds me to uphold the Seleighe court and fight against the Unseleighe."  
  
Legolas leapt backwards, avoiding the golden carved ring on the stranger's finger. Part of his mind wondering what 'Seelie'and 'Unseelie' were and coming to the conclusion that they were morgul, as obviously was the being's magic was. But there was something else he needed to be sure of before he did anything hasty.  
  
"Tis not the One Ring, is it?"  
  
=============================================  
  
It's Background lesson that can't be fit into the story time!  
  
The author of this chapter profusely apologies if it is ungainly but she needs to go over the past for those who don't know Mac's story and for those who do know to learn what happened to him after the book.  
  
Since I don't think I'll be able to fit it in within this chapter I will state it here. In the books the Sidhe don't seem believe marriage is necessary for legitimate children. In fact there is one instance where a child of pure human blood is recognized as being part of the Elfhame. The child's mother was married to a Sidhe and fathered by proxy with a friend. See Sidhe and humans have a MUCH harder time breeding together.  
  
In the books there seems to be a shortage of young elves. Near as we have figured out is that Sidhe are much more likely to die young, as in before 500, add this to a low birth rate. The Sidhe take it as a good idea to sleep around and have as many kids as possible, legitimacy be damned, they are children and that's all that matters. (which is why they have a tendency to adopt, or steal, human children if they see they are being treated badly)  
  
There's only one known half-breed in Lackey's universe (Ria Llewellyn, the bitch who put Mac Underhill minus his Magic) and to sire her, well, many people had to die, their magic taped, and the mother ended up horrendously addicted to drugs and eventually died. They don't inherit immortality, but can gain it if they have enough access to Underhill magic. And it's a fair bet that they won't have a Sidhe's 'allergies' to Caffeine and Iron.  
  
The reason for this difficulty is the difference in magic levels and type in humans and Sidhe. Recently (and canonically) a less dangerous, more humane, way has been found to enable a cross breeding.  
  
*looks up* well I think that covers most of it. There is more to come about Daoine Sidhe (full proper name of Sidhe, Lackey's elves) in future chapters. There might be a little about Tolkien elves, but not a lot since it's easier to find info about them on the net. 


	6. Chapter 5: Memory

Chapter Five  
  
Maclyn Arrydwyn was completely, stupendously, and utterly peeved.  
  
Well maybe that was too harsh of a word; perhaps he was irritated? Maybe not. He certainly was something. Running for his life was not fun, falling on a prince who seemed to spend a third of his time glaring at him, another third of his time talking over his head to his twined friends about him either so he could understand it or not. Maclyn hated being the butt end of people's jokes. Worse yet was the fact he spent the rest of his time stonily silent or whining about his father in vague terms, which prompted Maclyn to start calling him a banshee.  
  
He had almost gotten away from it before it started too. A shield slam up and a pitifully weak cloaking spell (which was the best he could manage in his state) followed by running like hell. If it hadn't been for the bite on his leg he would have escaped. Thankfully they had bound it up for him.  
  
The mutters from the guards though, while half the time he did not understand the words, the tone was open, that had been interesting, made him wonder if the Banshee-boy was prone to frivolous overkill, which only caused him to hold him in higher distain. But, it didn't feel that way, quite, more like there was something off, 'Not All Right.' Which fit, he could feel their emotions vaguely though his shields, they respected him, and worried about him, 'Not All Right' indeed.  
  
Once he had re-gathered his wits and deliberately 'looked' about with his other senses he was surprised. A Low Court elf could almost survive here, if it wasn't for the certain Unseleighe poison taint to the magic. But though that magical 'gloom' he could feel the prince, a dis-balance in his magic, it rather reminded him of human mages abilities about to bloom. That typically happened around puberty and made it all the worse because of it. But the prince, well if Mac was any judge, which he was, though typically of feminine flesh, the Prince was quite deliciously far beyond puberty.  
  
He shook himself off that line of thought, though his people didn't really care about gender in relations, or even numbers for that matter, he was a ladies man, which, he reminded himself ruefully, is what got him into this mess. It wasn't that he couldn't get out of his cell. Befuddle the guard, shape shift, gate, his means of escape were virtually endless. He was just very, very lucky they didn't put him in irons.  
  
But he was still vaguely.something. Certainly it was negative, he wished that things could go back to how they were a few hours ago.  
  
His life had been good, very good actually. Two years of on and off campaigning against the Unseleighe and was still alive, unlike many of his year-mates, to tell the tale. Not to mention take care of his adopted daughter.  
  
Ah, Amanda, or the Amandas as they were sometimes called, three little girls in one body, a single person tortured until they split apart into three different people. Abused Anne, prim Alice, thoughtful Abby. They were the children of his heart and he spoiled them rotten. Just thinking about their father was almost enough to send him into a rage, and certainly make him physically ill. But it didn't matter she was with him now. Why they even had a mother to add to their happy f-  
  
Well that wasn't entirely true. Felouen, well--it hadn't worked out, he just didn't feel that way about her, and so they separated. Though he half suspected that she was still mooning after him.  
  
Even his father was proud of him, and he knew that he had been moving up in the line of succession for the Elfhame. While being a middle child none of his remaining half siblings had the experience he did on the field. Indeed given the incentive of making Underhill safer for Amanda (and keeping his own head while doing so) he had picked up his studies on magic and fighting, finding a drive in himself that he never suspected had existed before. He certainly was never again found without a several Telekinetic spells. Thanks to a suggestion from a human friend he even had a layer of un-enchanted Kevlar added under his armor plates. The original parts, enamel and metal all, were rife with elvish enchantments, so much so that steel would pass though it like a hot knife though butter. Getting shot once was enough, thankyouverymuch.  
  
Eventually his father had decided enough was enough and that his son was running himself into an early grave and ordered him to take a rest or he'd make him take-ah, an enforced bed rest is what he had called it. Amazing how Princes could be so threatening and well spoken at the same time. Or maybe it was their (distant) relationship to the royal family. He heard that Oberon had a silver tongue.  
  
He had relented, because he did not doubt that his father could and would beat him into the ground if it came down to it. Besides Amanda wanted to go visit New York City. Of course, that hadn't gone so well. But, who knew Ria was with that Bard? Certainly no one had told HIM. He still thought that Eric was in that menaga troi with Korindel of Sun-Decending and that human witch.  
  
And, of course, getting thrown into the unformed plains certainly hadn't made that trip any better. He honestly hoped that someone of his elfhame had gotten the message to get Amanda. He couldn't possibly bear to lose her.  
  
He had almost lost her once, twice if you counted when he saved her from her father.  
  
Life was hard. And this just made things so much harder. 


	7. Chapter 6: Dreaming of You

The absence of iron was a blessing. He could lower his defenses a bit and use the magick to learn more about this Dark Place. Well, maybe after a little sleep.  
  
Maclyn wandered over to the bed and laid down. If he was going to be imprisoned, this was better then the dungeons.  
  
It was hazy. Very Hazy. And muter, all pastel. That was one of the clues that made Mac realize this was a dream. And. in the mirk. there was a mirror. How he knew what the glimmer was, he didn't know, but he was drawn towards it.  
  
His reflection was clear: tall, slim, muscled with long curly blonde hair pulled into a ponytail and green cat-slatted eyes. His garb, however, was that he had seen.someone wearing. But the name eluded him.  
  
Then the image shifted.  
  
Standing in front of him was a taller, slimmer elf with long free, straight blonde hair and human eyes.  
  
:Who are you?: His voice echoed with no sound. The other offered a fey grin.  
  
:I'm you.: There was a silence.  
  
:What?:  
  
:And you are me.: Mac gave him a look. He was kinda hot.  
  
And the other stepped out of the mirror.  
  
: You are no longer where you belong.: he gently touched Maclyn's cheek, the feeling as light as a feather or a leaf.  
  
:But you are where you are wanted.loved.: The other elf suddenly looked sad. So sad. Maclyn wanted nothing more then to hug the other, so that's what he did. The other buried his face in Maclyn's hair, nuzzling his neck. Every touch was like fire in his veins.  
  
:Can I kiss you?: The other smiled, and Maclyn leaned forward, gently pushing their lips together. It was like falling down a mountain, like fire and ice, like everything he had every hoped sex.*love* would be. And the other pulled away. :What's your name?: Maclyn asked, panting a bit. The other smiled.  
  
:You know.:  
  
And Maclyn woke up.  
  
Buiaiel sighed as she approached her prince. Her orders had been to make sure he slept: He had passed out earlier that day. She still carried the cool bowl of water with Athelas and the sloth she used to swab his forehead.  
  
The Prince was not doing well.  
  
The 'fadings' as they were called were coming more frequently, and it was taking more and more to bring him out.  
  
{My prince?} She crept forward, sensing something was amiss. And she was right; his eyes were closed. This was bad for one reason: Elves never slept with their eyes closed. It was something reserved for death. {No.} She touched his chest, feeling for a pulse or a heart beat. She found both. -What is going on?- She took off towards the king's chamber. -This is not good.-  
  
-Alright, why am I here? Why am I *dreaming*?- Legolas spun, looking through the haze. It was very muted, very foggy. Very odd. There was also that sad feeling creeping into his chest.  
  
"Arg!" He dropped to his knees, clutching at his heart. And then, he realized, this was a Grief Pang. He was dieing.  
  
His eyes stung with unshed tears , he couldn't shed them, elves couldn't cry. It was something only native to mortals.  
  
:Why are you crying, prince-ling?: Legolas jerked his head up, looking for the sound of the voice. He knew that voice.  
  
:Randir? Where_: He was wrapped in a warm embrace from behind. It was comforting. He felt the warm breath on the back of his neck.  
  
:Shhh. you have to heal. just heal.: The other nuzzled Legolas' neck, one hand smoothing his hair. :Your heart is troubled.: The arm embracing him moved until the other's hand was resting over his heart. The Pangs of Grief softened, eventually dieing away completely. The sadness was still there though.  
  
:Alas, Randir. This comfort is good, but it will return, and I will die.: There was a whispering chuckle, as if the other found this amusing.  
  
:I cannot heal mental wounds, Prince-ling. You have to do that yourself.: Legolas had the distinct impression of the other moving. There was a soft brush of lips against his cheek. :I will be here for you.: The other's presence started to fade, but the warmth did not.  
  
Until he touched his cheek. And felt the moistness of his tears.  
  
{The prince is not doing well. He has taken ill.} Maclyn looked up as he heard the new voice speak. With the sleepless hours (the dreams were just becoming too weird and too hot) he had discovered the link between the thoughts and words. In short, he had taught himself 'Sindarin'.  
  
The statement perked his interest, and he snuck towards the door. {What do you mean?}  
  
{He has been sleeping with his eyes *closed*. Like a *human*. His servant thought he had died.} The voice lowered considerably. {And he has been having Grief Pains.} The shocked silence form the other guard spoke volumes. Mac filed the term away, feeling the importance.  
  
{You mean he's dieing?} A shock passed through Maclyn.  
  
-The prince? He can't be dieing!- There was a jolt of a memory: /A ring, glowing with power, small red stone, fire, the prince, magic./ -The ring. ok, it's magical. That explains the unbalance. Cause all these elves seem to have a little Power. But, dieing? How do pains equal dieing?- There was a loud, incessant knocking on the door. "It's not like I can open it, genius!" There was a chuckle, and the door opened revealing. "Are you Elladan or Elrohir?"  
  
"Elrohir. And I knocked because I wasn't sure you'd be decent." A sly grin passed over his face.  
  
"I doubt that would have stopped you." The grin broadened, confirming that thought. Maclyn tried his hardest to look inconvenienced by the visit. "Well?"  
  
"I can see why the prince is attracted to you." Elrohir said, gently touching the bit of silk Mac had 'kenned' to add a bit of color. He was pointedly ignoring the question. And Maclyn hated to be ignored. He looked closer at the dark-haired elf, and noticed something: Elrohir's eyes were just a shade bluer then his twin's. "You are rather handsome." Maclyn made as if to comment, but Elrohir laughed. "No, I would not act on it. I find most full blood elves to be rather.cold. plus, my tastes run else where."  
  
"You talk as if you're not one." If he wanted to play the game, Mac would show him how it's done.  
  
"I'm not. My father was only a third elf, a third Miar, and a third human. My mother was pure blood. That makes me half." He grinned, and Mac could see the human qualities in the way he smiled. There was no stone faced expression, like all the others. -so he's half human. That's rare. And, he has siblings. Totally not happening with Sidhe.-  
  
Suddenly, Elrohir was directly in front of Maclyn. "I want to know what you did to Legolas." The demand shook Maclyn, catching him off guard. He just stared up at the angry, dark elf, sensing he better speak.  
  
"Uh, nothing. Honestly. Well, I mean, aside from landing on him. But I swear, I didn't do anything!" Maclyn made an expression he hoped looked innocent and apologetic. Elrohir's expression remained unreadable. -Damn that elfness! If he was more human, I wouldn't have to read his mind.-  
  
"Alright. But let me explain what is happening." Elrohir started pacing, making a noise in the back of his throat. "Legolas is dieing. Something happened to him in Lothlorien that made him change. Then, Gandalf came, and the Prince just went mad. Now, he's grieving."  
  
"Grievings not dieing." Elrohir looked like he might strike him. -Ok, now is defiantly not the time for smart-assed remarks.-  
  
"Grieving is the only natural way for an elf to die. The Valar almost destroyed this ability, not allowing full bloods to cry. And, allowing them to die if there are raped. Thus, no grief. But, if an elf gets sad enough. they will simply die. Also, we are not invincible in battle, but we only die from the most grievous of wounds. But, we do not like to fight.. Though, I do believe Fingolfin was the exception." Maclyn just stared blankly at Elrohir, trying to compute what he had said.  
  
He spoke before he realized he was speaking, "Our Kindreds are different then, more so than we thought. My people weep, and in an attack more than half of my home and people were killed including my mother," He looked up at Elrohir. "We are all still there though," He grinned though it was tinged with sadness  
  
"This is beside the point." Elrohir looked as though he might punch something, and Maclyn did NOT want to be that something. "This is not helping the Prince at all! Why did I even come here?" He paused, and Maclyn hear his thoughts loud and clear.   
  
"I do not think my mother would want me to weep for her, nor would she approve of us fighting if there was someone in trouble." He paused and blinked, "In fact I think she would beat me over the head and make lewd insults." His eyes glittered slightly and he looked up again, "Why does he grieve?"  
  
"He grieves because he knows what is happening with him. He also mutters how he felt every thing that died.... he felt it as if it was part of himself." Elrohir sighed, looking down at his hands. "In Helms Deep alone, that would drive an elf to madness. All those children... and humans, elves and Uruk Hai..." He made a fist, trying to control his anger. Maclyn was understandably upset.  
  
"Did no one teach him how to properly shield himself?" His voice was pitched different, incredulous and horrified. Elrohir just stared at him.  
  
"Shield himself? Though an elf is connected with the world, we have never felt more then a pang of loneliness when a creature has died. This is odd, and at such a magnitude." Maclyn held up his hands, palms facing Elrohir, moving them slightly as he sought to explain.  
  
"All of my people are taught to shield themselves from before they can walk, and until they have strength enough to do it on their own their parents do it for them." He sighed. "If we did not our enemies would reach into our minds and drag us down into death with them."  
  
Elrohir remained silent, eventually resuming his pacing. "But Legolas is not your kind. Even I have felt that you are different. This power is far uncommon. Tis only the Ring bearers who experience this." He sat down, looking distressed.  
  
Maclyn considered this, "Yet I do think their is a connection between our kins, the librarian indicated this to me when I was still in the dungeons." -She also indicated that he was in a story book but that was besides the point-, "...Tell me, does he spend much time alone, not just alone but far away from other people as well?" Elrohir nodded, unsure of what to say. Maclyn bit his lip and looked away, "This is new you say? He has never had this.ability before?"  
  
Elrohir shook his head. "This part is new. He is from the Old Bloodline, so his 'magicks' are stronger then ours, but he has never had them at this level. The most he could do was make a cave collapse... and that was only because his sister's life was in danger."  
  
Maclyn's face scrunched up slightly as he thought, "This most certainly does not happen amongst my people, and not on a permanent basis at least. I would suspect that he was using that ring he wears, but he is not, I can tell. In fact I think the ring is restraining him, which is all well and good because he might, would kill himself if he over extends."  
  
Elrohir looked up sharply. "He wears a Ring? no... he cannot... The three Bearers are still alive and in Middle Earth. He cannot be Bearing one."  
  
Maclyn shook his head, "I'm telling you he is wearing a silver ring with a little ruby on it, and it covers in red glow, even you should be able to see *that,*" A pause, "It looks a bit familiar, but," his eyes widened, "It looks like one of the signet rings, but they have iron on them." Elrohir shook his head, now pacing again. "Nooo... no, he cannot.... U ion ya, u ion...ion-uva firn!" [He cannot hold a ring, he cannot. he will die!].  
  
Maclyn started raking his mind, these symptoms sounded familiar. "This does not happen amongst my people, but...Humans, this happens to humans, but earlier in life, and sometimes things like this happen, but..." He trailed off. Elrohir watched him, pleading him with his eyes. His thoughts were clear, Maclyn looked up, "When this happens to humans there are six possible out comes, they shut down their powers in a self defense mechanism, they go mad, they kill themselves, they go mad and then kill themselves, they figure the basics out on their own, or they find a mentor." Maclyn let that sink in.  
  
Elrohir just stared for a moment, before cursing and storming out of the room. Maclyn looked after him, shock evident on his face. "You are coming, are you not?" Elrohir's angry voice threw back at him. Maclyn unsurely followed him out.  
  
"He has a mentor, if he'll have me" Elrohir ignored him. And so he followed Elrohir though the twists and turns of Thranduil's mountain palace.  
  
He found Elrohir along the grand rooms near the top of the mountain. And he was standing outside a door with strange script on the door. Maclyn wouldn't have known who's room it was, save for the fact leaves were etched around the frame. -Doesn't take a brainchild to figure out this is the Prince's room.- And...It was warded--sort of. He had seen better work from self trained Human Mages. He focused on his mage sight, bands of magic, woven together little more than the foundation of any spell, tossed up against the walls, ceiling, floor and door in a whimsical pattern. Elrohir knocked politely on the door and pushed it open.  
  
Maclyn tapped the barrier lightly, amused at the sparks.  
  
A faint 'Come in' was audible in the Elf's native language  
  
"Are you going to invite me as well Banesidhe, or will I have to tear this...thing," he was not even going to dignify the weak lattice with the term 'shield,' "Down? And yes, I can see it." Legolas made a sound, somewhere between a cry or shock and annoyance, but repeated his 'Come in'. And, as if to prove a point, sent a wall of power momentarily keeping Maclyn out.  
  
Maclyn flicked some magic at it, causing it to shudder, near buckle, break and shatter. "Shields aren't decorative, Legolas, they are meant to keep people out, and this one is pathetic. Now let me in, or I'll break it down." Legolas sighed, and, with a flick of his wrist, took down the shield. Elrohir just stared at the two, then the door, then the Two again. And Maclyn walked in. "I can see you put it up in a interesting pattern so I assume that you can see what you do."  
  
The Prince shrugged, and resumed staring at the candle that was lit in the room. Elrohir sighed and muttered something along the lines of 'not again'. Maclyn sighed, "Pay attention to me Legolas. I can show you how to make a proper shield, and how to make one for your mind so you are not forced to feel other's feelings and hear their thoughts." Elrohir looked to the prince to judge his response. there was an absolute lack of one. Maclyn concentrated briefly on the candle and the little flame, even the wick. Nope not enchanted. -Oh well, I can fix that.- He made it flare up as if someone had pouring alcohal on it. Legolas jumped backword, knocking over his chair and tripping over his bed. Not very elf-like either. "Do I have your attention now," he quiered dryly as he buffed his nails on his shirt. ELrohir and Legolas stared at MAc, both looking a bit too stunned to speak. Not to mention Legolas looked like a frightened kitten, all huddled up in the corner, knees against his chest. He rolled his eyes and sat down next to him, slinging an arm around his shoulders, unbothered and not caring about the redish glow about him. "Now don't be like that." Legolas made a sound vaguely like a hiss, and Elrohir paled. "Maclyn... you may want to back away right about now..." /I mean you no harm, neth-ernil,/ he prjected into Legolas along with calming emotions. Legolas stopped, unsure of what was happening, and coked his head to the side, as if trying to listen to the voice. "There are too many voices to hear me properly, aren't there neth-ernil? Watch now." He focused and built a basic geodesic sphear around them. He even put a bit more power into it so even Elrohir could see it. He built it up slowly so Legolas could see it. Shunts and barriars, layers, and power drains. Elrohir yelled something, confused, though Legolas was too intently watching Maclyn to notice. Suddenly, someting in his eyes sparked, and cleared. And He punched Maclyn. And Maclyn bounced off his little shield as he made it to hold out physical things larger than a fly. But his reaction was instinanious, a lash of magic, almost resemebling a balrog's whip came from his hand and struck Legolas back in return. Maclyn regained his feet and flung his hand out power forcing Legolas to stay down, "Rule one, don't attack the teacher." Legolas yelped, but, with a bit more power then Maclyn had expected, broke down the barriar, though he could not more. Elrohir, however, now could, and grabbed Maclyn's shoulders, throwing him clear to the otehr side of the room. Instinct, and too many years on the battle feild led his armor to being summoned and his feet to be under him, another surge of magic and Elrohir was pushed against the wall. He rubbed his nose with his left hand, "Why did you have to punch me?" Legolas muttered something incoherant, glaring at Maclyn with a rather vicious intensity. Maclyn glanced down at himself, noting he was in his armor, which was most likely rather extravagant by the standars of men and elves in this place. But there was powerful magic woven into it to protect him. Elrohir just struggled against the invisible force holding him. [Elladan! We have a problem!] "I do not have to deal with this, I try to help you and you strike me. Go mad for all I care." He shruged and left the room, closing the door and then released the two elves. There was a long silence as Legolas got his bearings, but before Elrohir could objet, he was out the door and then, in front of Maclyn, who was walking away, still in his colorful armor, looking this way and that in a wholely unconserned manner. "Halt, randir." Legolas looked at the other, somewhat confused. "I am sorry i struck you, but i woke up, and i felt trapped.... i am sorry." He looked rather ashamed, and a bit apologetic. Maclyn paused in his meanderings and turned his head to glance at Legolas though one eye, "My call name is Maclyn Arrydywn, not 'Wanderer,' that is a title better suited to you. Now, even if you do not excuse me, I will be leaving this place. Do try not to kill anyone if you don't succede in figureing your powers out on your own." He turned his attention back foreward and walked down the hall away from the prince. LEgolas stood there, shocked. Somethign came to him... something that MAclyn had done. Manipulated his emotions. Legolas focused, sending to the other elf. //You don't want to leave. You have to help me...// somehow, Legolas felt his control slipping, and the demand becoming a plea. //I'm going to die soon... please...// and he stopped, clutching his chest as another Grief Pain hit him hard. He heared him, and ignored him, not even bothering to even thicken his shields. Then he regreted that and gave a cry that was wrenched from his throat and he grabed his chest, falling against the wall. His magic lashed out against Legolas even as a haphazard barriar went up to protect him. Legolas couldn't see Maclyn anymore, there was too much pain... too much, he felt something hit him, but it was insignificant compared to the grief. He looked up, willing someone to appear. And felt strength flow into him. His Father's face came into focus above him. Maclyn could resoun though the pain and decided then and there as soon as he could he was going to thrash Legolas soundly. Using mind weapons was disgusting and dishonnorable outside battle. But, he froze, and looked behind him. The other elf was on the floor, clutching at his heart. And his father was above him. Someghow, Maclyn didn't think this was a mind weapon anymore. But he still hurt, he could feel the tears on his face, though the pang was lessened. -I do believe I am on the verge of passing out.- And Legolas struggled... 'Father...I...' With that last stregth failing him, he felt the darkness take over. And Maclyn followed into blessed blackness. 


End file.
